


my hands are tied in just one touch

by hiswittlehands



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, Nipple Play, Rimming, Top Louis, i have problems with mentioning how small louis' hands are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-24 23:58:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiswittlehands/pseuds/hiswittlehands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts, as these things often do, with a question.  Harmless.  Innocent.</p><p>Or, in other words, Louis wants to try something new, and Harry decides to trust him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my hands are tied in just one touch

**Author's Note:**

> for ariella, who requested a one shot with bondage, and i obliged.
> 
> this is more or less my first crack at writing smut, and i'm an impatient twat who didn't want to find a beta after spending as much time as i did writing it, so if there's any mistakes or spelling errors, blame it all on me. beyond that, it is what it is.

It starts, as these things often do, with a question. Harmless. Innocent.

They're curled against one another on the couch, legs tangled up like vines, Louis with his head against Harry's chest. His hands are lazily running along Harry's waist, his small fingers tracing out the familiar letters of the 'might as well' inked into the skin there (and well, they should be familiar, seeing as it is Louis' writing, after all). Harry's eyes are closed, and you'd almost think he was sleeping, except, well, Louis can feel the small shudders that his touches are causing.

That's when it happens. That's when Louis lifts his hand and Harry opens his eyes a sliver and lets out a small groan of protest and Louis looks up at him and asks, simply, "Do you trust me?"

Harry's eyes open all that way at that, eyebrows perking and he looks at Louis, his face a mixture of disbelief and confusion. "'Course I trust you, Lou." He says it as simply as Louis asked, like it's the most obvious answer for the most obvious question. Ever. On earth.

Louis lets out a sigh, but he's smiling now. He gently kicks his legs free of Harry's gangly limbs, rolling over so that he's sitting on Harry's lap, and leans in to whisper against his ear, "Good. Because, there's...there's something I'd like to try." He nips Harry's earlobe, and the younger boy presses his fingers against Louis' hips, muttering something about Louis being an insufferable tease, which only makes Louis bite down harder, really. And then he's standing up and extending his hands, which Harry grabs.

"What'd you have in mind?" Harry asks, following so closely behind Louis as the older boy leads them to their bedroom that his crotch keeps rubbing against Louis' arse. And that, well, neither of them really mind.

"Do you trust me?" Louis asks, again, over his shoulder.

Harry can practically _hear_ the smirk in his voice. "I do, you know I do, but what has that got to-"

Louis turns so quickly Harry doesn't have time to register anything but the fact that Louis' entire body is suddenly pressing against his, Louis' lips are suddenly pressed up against his, and he kisses Harry once (just a chaste peck, which is odd, but Harry's not complaining, not when he can feel Louis' semi against his thigh) before muttering into Harry's mouth, "Just, trust me. Now close your eyes, and keep them closed until I say."

Obviously, Harry listens.

Louis kisses him again then, biting his bottom lip. "And no peeking," he whispers.

Harry very much wants to blush, because there's no way Louis didn't feel his dick twitch in reaction to _that_.

Louis chuckles, and pulls Harry, who stumbles over his own feet (as often happens when one's eyes are closed and your boyfriend isn't exactly bothering to lead you _carefully_ ), along into their room. Louis releases his hand and Harry hears the door being closed before there are hands on his back, pushing him forward. And Harry shuffles along until his knees hit something solid and he's falling forward, arms flailing as a very unattractive yelp escapes his mouth and he flops rather unceremoniously onto their bed.

Louis' giggling as he grabs Harry by the ankles. "Roll over, love," he says, and obviously, Harry listens.

"Can I open my eyes yet?"

"Did I say you could open your eyes yet?"

Well. "No?"

"Then you keep them closed."

There's a rustling noise somewhere to Harry's left, and then Harry feels Louis crawl onto the bed, positioning himself between Harry's legs. Harry feels a warm breath exhaled against his lips and then Louis is kissing him, slow and gentle. Louis' tongue is licking along Harry's lip, slipping inside as he turns his head for a better angle. Small hands reach down to grasp Harry's, tiny fingers lacing between his own. And then those small hands are moving, lifting Harry's arms over his head and pressing them back down against the mattress as Louis pulls back from the kiss.

"Keep them there," he says, before moulding his lips back to Harry's, deepening the kiss. His hands slide back down Harry's arms, running over the skin, nails digging in at times to leave the faintest of scratch marks. Louis' hands work their way down Harry's chest, his torso, all the way to his waist and the hem of his shirt, which Louis fiddles with idly before slipping his hands under the fabric and pushing it up. His movements are slow, yet urgent. Purposeful. Harry arches his back so that Louis can push the material up, breaking the kiss again to finally pull it off. He throws the shirt aside and then Harry hears rustling, a faint _clink!_ , and is tempted to open his eyes.

He almost does, too, but then Louis' lips are ghosting over his own and Louis' hands are running up the sides of his torso and over his chest and Harry lets out a sharp moan then, because Louis pinches his nipple, rolling the nub between his thumb and forefinger. He gasps into Louis' mouth and before he can stop himself, opens his eyes and brings his hands down to grasp the older boy's hair. Louis pulls back, sitting up with his thighs on either side of Harry's waist, and grabs the younger boy's wrists, pinning Harry's arms to his sides on the mattress. He looks down at Harry, lower lip jutting out in a subtle pout, brow furrowed.

"Thought I told you not to move your hands, Harry," he says, very seriously. "Thought I told you not to peek."

"I-I didn't mean to, Lou-" Harry's fumbling over his words, trying to stutter out an apology even though he knows he can't because he's not sorry, not really.

Louis shakes his head, and Harry would think he were disappointed if not for the smirk that he fails to subdue. He slowly pulls Harry's hands back above his head. "Don't move," Louis whispers against Harry's ear, nibbling on the skin before he goes back to kissing down Harry's jaw line and neck until he reaches his collarbones and the two birds inked into Harry's skin. He runs his tongue over the larger of the two, and then starts to bite and suck at the skin there.

Harry's entire body is shaking at the sensation, and he desperately wants to move, wants to taste every inch of Louis' tanned skin, wants to feel how soft it is against his lips.

But Harry doesn't want to disappoint Louis, not again. So he doesn't move. And he won't.

Louis is still attacking Harry's skin with his mouth. It hurts, but it feels good, too. Harry isn't quite sure if his teeth are clenching out of pain, or in an attempt to contain a whimper. Louis knows how to use his tongue, knows how to use it to leave Harry a squirming, incoherent mess. Which, really, is essentially what he is now. Well, almost. He's biting down on his lip to stop himself from letting any embarrassing sounds slip, but it's getting harder to focus on keeping his mouth closed when Louis' looking up at him through his lashes and his hands are trailing up and down Harry's waist his ass is grinding down against Harry's hard-on. It's overwhelming, and Harry's mouth falls open to release a moan just as Louis leaves one last surprisingly gentle kiss on his chest and sits up to admire his work.

What was once milky skin marked only by black ink is now distorted by bruises ranging from purple to pale yellow. It's like Louis' injected colour into the plumage of Harry's tattoos, like he's given life to the bird, and Harry's surprised it hasn't taken flight.

"Jesus, Lou" he says, short of breath.

Louis' smirking again, looking positively pleased with himself. He extends a hand to caress Harry's bruised skin, then rolls off the younger boy saying, curtly, "Need you on your stomach, love." Harry does as he's told. Louis pats him on his bum, and Harry's not sure whether to find it endearing or condescending.

Or both. Both is good.

"Stay right there." Louis reaches down over the edge of the bed. Harry looks over, trying to see what Louis could possibly be doing, but then the older boy glances over his shoulder, eyes narrowing. "I meant it when I said no peeking, you twat."

Harry obeys, closing his eyes.

There it is again. That _clink! clink! clink!_ sound, something solid and...metal?

He feels Louis clamber back atop him, feels him lean forward, and grab his hand. The _clink!_ sound grows louder still, and Harry opens his mouth to ask Louis what the hell he's up to when he feels something cold clasp shut around his wrist.

And he freezes, eyes shooting open in surprise.

Harry looks back over his shoulder, and Louis is looking down at him, face plastered with the absolute worst sort of shit-eating grin imaginable. He quirks his eyebrows, and can't stop himself from giggling. Just a little.

"Louis."

Before Harry even has a chance to protest further, Louis quickly secures the other end of the handcuff to the bed frame, and then slides back until he's sitting low on Harry's back, knees pressing gently into his sides.

" _Louis_ ," Harry says again, struggling to push Louis off so he can turn his body just enough to lay on his side. "What the hell," he says, gesturing to his cuffed hand, "is this?"

Louis shrugs. "You said you trusted me." He looks at Harry, biting his bottom lip. "Did you not mean it, Harry? Did you lie?"

Harry groans, his head falling back onto the pillows. He runs his free hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. " _Louis_ , I, of course I meant it. It's ju-"

Louis brings a finger up and presses it against Harry's lips, silencing him. "So just...just trust me, Harry." He moves his hand to caress Harry's cheek. "Trust me to take care of you." He says it so quietly, Harry almost thinks he imagined it. But then Louis' kissing him, one hand moving to rest on the back of Harry's neck while the other moves down to entwine with Harry's free hand. Harry's on his back again, and the wrist already handcuffed to the bed is screaming in protest due to the awkward angle, but he can't bring himself to care, not when Louis' grinding down into his lap and the younger boy can't stop the small, desperate whimpers from escaping his mouth, and those only make Louis deepen his kisses, really. Harry's straining in his jeans, the coarse fabric against his skin too tight. It's overwhelming but not nearly enough all at once, and it's driving him crazy.

Not as crazy as Louis is driving him, though. Louis, with his infuriatingly beautiful skin and meaty thighs and those _hands_ and that _mouth_. It's enough to drive any person insane, really.

Harry doesn't realize when Louis releases his hand, doesn't even notice it, in fact, until he hears a _click!_ and looks down to see that Louis' got another set of handcuffs.

Another set of handcuffs that, it just so happens, has one end closed around the wrist of his right hand. Louis pulls back from the kiss, smiles, and then gets up off the mattress. He rolls Harry over, back onto his stomach, and then grabs Harry's hand and fastens the handcuff to the frame of their bed.

And. Well.

Fuck.

Harry hasn't even got his pants off, yet he feels more exposed now than he ever has before. And Louis just stands there, staring down at Harry with this, this look on his face. Like he's so pleased with himself. And he won't stop fucking _smiling_.

"You look so good like this," Louis says, his tone far too calm for Harry's liking. Harry, who's short of breath and who's dick is so hard he feels like he might implode.

"I can think of several ways I'd look better," he manages to reply. "Like, not sure you've got the best angle there."

Louis laughs. "True." He shuffles around to the end of the bed, looking Harry's body up and down with an almost ravenous look in his eyes. "This angle's much better."

Harry groans, pulling against his restraints and wishing his hands weren't cuffed so that he could at least take the edge off himself. But he can't. He can't do anything apart from lie there, desperate and helpless. "Louis," he pleads. "Please...do something. Anything."

The older boy cocks an eyebrow before he reaches down and slowly pulls his shirt up and then over his head, dropping it on the floor next to him. Harry very much wishes he wasn't handcuffed to the goddamn bed. Louis leans down then, and rests his hands on the mattress. "Trust me Harry," he says. "I'm going to take very good care of you."

Harry's entire body shudders in response to Louis' words, and he's almost positive his dick is twitching but, really, he can't be held accountable for that. "Lou," he says again, "c'mon, _please_."

Louis stands up tall (well, as tall as he can be, rather), and undoes the button of his jeans before he slides the zipper down. And then he's leaning down again, crawling onto the bed and reaching up to undo Harry's jeans before he latches his fingers into the belt loops on the sides and pulls them down. With a great deal of effort Harry manages to lift his hips so Louis can get them past his arse, and then all the way off.

Harry's been naked in front of Louis hundreds of times before, but here, now, is the first time since their first time together that he feels...well, anxious. Exposed. And most of all, vulnerable.

He blames the handcuffs.

He blames it on the fact that he's laid out on display, unable to hide or move or take control when things start to overwhelm him. This is something completely new to him, and for that reason he's...well, scared. Nervous. Tense.

It's something that Louis must notice, because suddenly Harry can feel the older boy's small hands running softly over his skin, massaging his shoulders and rubbing soothing circles all the way down his spine, trying to make him relax.

"Harry," he whispers, "relax, love." He kisses between Harry's shoulder blades and begins to work his way downwards, leaving lingering kisses along the entire length of Harry's spine. The younger boy feels his body shiver in response, and wriggles his hips, seeking friction for his cock against the comforter. His arms are shaking, protesting against their restraints.

Louis' hands are on him again, kneading the skin of Harry's arse as he spreads the cheeks apart as far as he can and licks a slow, teasing line over his hole before blowing softly over the wet skin. The sensation sends a shudder running up the length of Harry's spine. He moans, burying his face in a pillow.

Louis runs his tongue along the skin again, and then at Harry's hole with short, quick licks followed by longer ones. His fingers are digging into Harry's skin so hard it hurts, and there are sure to be marks tomorrow, but Harry doesn't even register the pain. His entire body is painfully aware of every single move of Louis' tongue, and his every muscle tenses once more. "Harry," Louis says again, "just relax. Let me take care of you, yeah? Trust me."

The last words are a statement, but it still sounds like a question, like he's worried Harry doesn't. Which is ridiculous, because Harry trusts Louis with everything. So he takes a deep breath. Inhale. He counts to two. Exhale. And repeat. He wills his body to relax, to be loose and malleable and soft.

He's relaxed, and comfortable.

Until, without any warning whatsoever, Louis pushes his tongue past the ring of muscle, sliding it into Harry's hole as far as he can, burying his face between the younger boy's arse cheeks. Harry's entire body squirms, and he struggles with the handcuffs, his hands desperately seeking purchase they will not find. He whimpers, can feel the precome leaking from his cock just as he can feel Louis' tongue swirling around inside him. "Louis, f-f-fuck," he stammers, biting down on his lip. His hips are starting to buck, but Louis grips them harder to keep them steady and he begins to work his tongue in and out.

Harry's falling apart. His shoulders hurt and his arms are sore and his wrists are going numb but he can't stop himself from pulling against his restraints. He groans " _Louis_ ," but the only response from the older boy is a particularly confident swirl of his tongue before he pulls back and leaves a final sloppy kiss on Harry's skin.

And then Louis is shifting to stretch an arm over the side of the bed, and Harry looks over his shoulder to see that he's grabbed a packet of lube and a condom. He drops them next on the mattress and then pats his hand against Harry's arse and says, "Need you on your knees, Haz." Harry nods and shuffles forward so he can support himself on his elbows with his hands in the air and then struggles into a kneeling position. It's not the comfiest position he's ever found himself in, but he figures that it won't matter much once.

Louis tears open the lube and dribbles a liberal amount over his fingers, and proceeds to slide two inside, up to knuckle. He simply moves them in and out, and then adds a third and starts to scissor them, stretching Harry out. The younger boy can feel his hips rocking back, trying to get Louis' fingers deeper inside him. That's when Louis adds a fourth and final finger, and curves them upwards so that he hits Harry's prostate. Harry's elbows buckle and he releases a long, drawn-out moan. "Lou, I... _fuck_ , I need..." His words dissipate into incoherent mumbles, and his thrusts become more desperate, pushing back on Louis' fingers until his entire body is straining against the handcuffs locked around his wrists.

His painfully hard cock is leaking precome and Louis reaches forward to give it one, two, three strokes before he's retracting his hand and Harry chokes out "You fucking tease," amidst a murmured string of profanities. Louis simply laughs as he opens the condom package and slides it down over his own cock. He grabs the lube and slicks up the length of the condom before he moves to align his cock with Harry's entrance.

"I'm going to fuck you into this mattress," Louis says, his voice alarmingly calm. "It's going to feel so good. Trust me."

It doesn't sound like a question this time. This time, it sounds like a fact.

Harry lets out a frustrated groan as Louis enters him, pushing in slowly until his hips are flush against the younger boy's skin. He stays like that for a moment, giving Harry time to adjust, and then his hands are digging into the younger boy's hips as he pulls almost all the way out and then slams back in. Louis quickly picks up rhythm, _infastandhardanddeepandoutandrepeat_ , thrusting into Harry and filling him up before sliding back out.

It's not long before Harry thighs start to shake and his arms have grown so numb again that they give out and his upper body collapses against the pillows. His wrists are chaffing against the handcuffs but he can't even be bothered by the slight pain it's causing him, not when Louis' fucking him like this. Harry's hair is sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck from sweat, and he can feel how slick Louis' skin is against his own. Louis' thrusts are slowing now, but pushing deeper, and Harry lets out a low keen the first time Louis hits his prostate, his body trembling.

"Lou," he manages to say between gasps, "I need you to...need you..."

His cock is slapping against his stomach with each of Louis' thrusts, and he wishes he weren't handcuffed. Usually by this point he'd have wrapped one of his hands around his cock, would be jacking himself off in time with Louis' thrusts, but he can't now. Not with his hands restrained. It's unbearable.

He shakes his fists in frustration, the handcuffs clinking. "Louis, _please_..." Harry moans. "I need you to un-"

Louis pauses mid thrust and leans forward to kiss the skin in the dip of Harry's back. "Not a chance," he replies quietly. "You're going to come just like this, without me touching you." Louis tangles one of his hands in Harry's curls then, and turns the younger boy's head so that he's looking at Louis over his shoulder. He picks up a faster rhythm again, pounding into Harry without breaking eye contact. "Want to see your face when you come, love," he adds with a smirk.

And it's that, Louis' expression and his gaze, coupled with a final thrust hitting Harry's prostate, that has the younger boy coming with a low groan, shooting out on the mattress before his legs finally give out and he collapses against the mattress with Louis on top of him. His face is buried in the pillow, his breathing ragged. Harry's entire body feels tingly and numb, and he's quite sure he can't feel his arms anymore.

Louis picks up thrusting again, and Harry finds the strength to rock his hips back. It's not long after that Harry feels Louis' forehead against his shoulders as he comes, hand fisting in the younger boy's hair. He lies there atop Harry for a minute or so, and Harry can feel as his breathing returns to normal. And then he's sliding back, pulling out of Harry slowly before rolling off him to the side, lying on his back. Louis runs a hand through his hair, and Harry can't help but laugh weakly at how it's messy and sticking up all over the place.

"So," Louis says, turning his head to look at Harry, "said I'd take care of you. What's the verdict?" His voice is soft and raspy, like it always is after a good fuck.

"Meant it when I said I trusted you," Harry answers, and Louis' grinning again. Harry can't help but return a sickeningly fond smile. He's in love with a child. He, Harry Styles is in love with Louis Tomlinson, an actual child.

Harry wants very, very much to kiss him. 

He goes to try and do just that, only to remember that both of his hands are still handcuffed to the bed frame. He frowns, and shakes his hands weakly to catch Louis' attention. "Lou, I could use a hand..."

"Oh, right. _Those_." Louis sits up on his elbows and runs his eyes over every inch of Harry's body, taking his time to take in the curve of Harry's ass, the barely visible bones of his spine, the definition of the muscles in his biceps. He smiles. "Think I found the best angle, really. If I take those off," he says, reaching out a hand to tap a finger against the handcuffs, "what's to stop you from moving?"

Harry shakes his head, and then cocks his eyebrow, trying to look taken aback. "Louis," he gasps. He says it in a way that would sound offended, but Louis knows better than to take him seriously. Harry's absolute shit at lying, especially at lying to Louis. But that doesn't stop him from trying. He turns away, looking down at the mattress, sighing heavily.

Louis sits up, prepared to roll over and grab the key for the handcuffs, but suddenly Harry faces him, a devilish smirk playing on his lips, and says, "Guess you'll just have to trust me, won't you?"


End file.
